


on ends and means

by galactics



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactics/pseuds/galactics
Summary: He’s always split down the middle—who he was and the new shell Ryo has put him in.





	on ends and means

**Author's Note:**

> i don't understand devilman crybaby but i had a Thought so here it is

The memories of Sabbath aren’t the difficult part. Images are not something Akira’s often offended by, especially not now. He is awash in images at all times, of the world, of his fantasies. 

But now it’s all taste. Feel. Warmth and wet. He can’t help that clench in his shoulders and calves when the sense of being in that club and killing takes hold. Motion is so fluid and bombastic now that he can relive memories like they’re happening again. If he held his fingers up and felt the cold air streaming through, he can feel that now, even if it’s warm. His eyes move with his mind. His heart beats with the traces of a human mind as his body transforms.

He’s always split down the middle—who he was and the new shell Ryo has put him in.

-

“There’s something I want to do with that body of yours.”

There always is. Always was. Nothing’s changed.

Akira swallows a whole turkey leg and plucks the bones from his gullet. He wishes Ryo would flinch. “What now? You wanna drag me out to another field? Another killing floor?”

Ryo shakes his head and stands. “Come outside when you’re done.” He drops his coat behind him as he heads out to the balcony.  
Akira stares out after him, teeth and jaw working emotionlessly into his food. He holds the plate up to dump the remaining gristle down his throat, then tosses it aside. It cracks the marble of the wall.

He ambles outside. Ryo is in the pool, all his clothes on. His hair is plastered straight down the sides of his head. He’s mingling with the surface of the water and letting it lap up against his chin, his lips, his nose.

Ryo’s sinking, Akira realizes, and it takes a few more moments of standing there before he realizes he should maybe get in and get him before he drowns himself.

“Drama queen,” he huffs, pulling Ryo up from a feet beneath the water by the scruff of his neck. “Could’ve killed yourself.”

Ryo stands on his own two feet and shakes the water from his ears. “But you helped.” His gaze is level now, even as water droplets bead up around his eyes and lashes, like he rose from the water instead of being pulled out. “You always want to help, Akira.”

Akira puts a hand out and rakes Ryo’s hair back from his face. His forehead is large, and Akira realizes why Ryo must keep his hair like that. Akira’s at odds again. Ryo feels less stark while he’s sopping wet and out of style; but his actions are still miles ahead of Akira.

He tenses with that. They’re a few hundred feet above the street, so all that’s available to their sight is the tops of grey buildings and the white sky stretching out endlessly. The pool water is crystal clear. The floor lends a light blue color.

Ryo’s motionless. He’s plotting. It’s infuriating. Akira wants to rip him open, throw him off the roof, anything.

“Do something.”

Ryo doesn’t heed his command.

“I could kill you. You could set me on fire, and I’d come back, and I’d kill you. You’ve got to know that.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t know that either.” Akira puts his hand atop Ryo’s head, his fingers coming down around Ryo’s skull. The blonde sways under his grip. “I could crush you.”

Ryo nods. “You could. You’re beautiful.” He reaches out in kind and hooks his finger into the dip of Akira’s shirt. “A beautiful devilman.”

His stomach stirs again. He lets Ryo go and steps back. His jeans cling to him. He speaks, low and gravelly, like the devilman Ryo mentioned is lurking on the edge. “So what else did you want from me?”

-

For a long time, he thought he was happy simply existing. When he arrived at this unending death march, this servitude, he balked like he never had before, like something inside him—perhaps the devil—was urging to rip free and take. Taking food and flesh and all the blood.

But there’s a reason Ryo is Ryo and Akira stood under him at Sabbath, even though their physical positions were opposite.  
It’s because Akira’s useless without Ryo. There’s no road without Ryo. No future. Just endless existence, not happiness but a despicable complacency.

There’s no road without Ryo—and blood.

Now that, he can be happy with.


End file.
